


Forward Into the Past

by Metalkatt



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-15
Updated: 2010-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalkatt/pseuds/Metalkatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoenix can recognize his formal rival despite time... trouble is, so can Miles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _**Fanfiction: Phoenix Wright/Gyakuten Saiban: Forward into the Past. Part 1 of 3.**_  
> Title: Forward Into the Past  
> Rating: NC17/FRAO.  
> Genre: Slash.  
> Pairing/Characters: Narumitsu (P/E), Larry/Maya (sideline).  
> Length: Long  
> Squicks: None.  
> Spoilers: Post GS4.  
> Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be where I am now, I'd be writing GS5, Turnabout Commitment Ceremonies, and raking in cash hand over fist.

Phoenix sighed as his fingers plinked at the keys of the piano; no matter how long he tried, he never seemed to get the notes. _I really hate you, Fred Mollin,_ he grumped to himself. It was close enough to the Moonlight Sonata that he kept getting mixed up, and after so many years, the memory of how it was supposed to sound had faded near to nothing from constant handling.

A murmur caught his attention, plucked at the outside of his consciousness. He lifted his eyes, sending a sleepy gaze about the room, but it was always packed on dollar draft night. He bent his head back to the keys, frowning. He'd thought he heard a familiar voice. _\--there!_ A flash of silver? He set his jaw, angry at how fast he'd jerked up to look; he wasn't supposed to care anymore. His family was all that mattered now: Trucy, Pearls, and Maya--his girls; Gumshoe, when he needed help putting clues together; the new defence lawyer, Justice... hell, even the rockstar-cum-prosecutor was part of his circle now. Silver and maroon had stopped being colours for him long ago, and they needed to stay dead... just like him.

A swirl of Armani cologne had Phoenix biting his tongue, and he felt more than saw the long, lean frame resting in a rather nonchalant pose against the instrument. "What _are_ you trying to play?" He knew that voice--same derision, same intonation, thicker accent... He was sure if he were to incline his head, he'd see the same condescending grey eyes staring at him.

Knowing this, knowing the way his own eyes would give him away were he to look up was incentive enough to keep him from doing it. He lowered his voice a half-step, adding a bit of a rumble as if he'd been smoking a pack a day for his adult life. "Forward into the Past," he mumbled with a shrug.

"You're making a right mess of it," came the snort.

"Think y'r so good, like t'see you do better, Mr. Out-of-Place." His fingers trembled over the keys, and he quickly clenched them into fists to still the visible shaking.

"Tch. Clear off, then." Wright slid off the bench, leaning against the wall to watch as Edgeworth settled himself in. From behind, Phoenix could look his fill, and look, he did. There were a few crinkles along the edge of his old friend's eye--nothing to mark him as old, per se, just no longer in his twenties. His bangs still swept down from his forehead, parted on either side of his face. The cut showed off his ears, and they drew the gaze down to the sharp, masculine jaw. That jaw, Phoenix was sure, had become squarer in seven years, making him seem less pretty and more dangerous. The biggest surprise, though, was the glasses. Silvery upper frames held small, rounded rectangles, which seemed to set off the angles of his face quite well, from what Wright could see. He muffled a sigh, letting his eyes track down over the cravat he'd longed so often in and out of court to yank away. Edgeworth's shoulders were just as broad as Phoenix remembered, with graceful arms that tapered down into what he knew to be strong wrists, and, of course, those beautiful hands. He watched as long, limber fingers settled themselves over the plastic keys, stroking them a moment as if they'd been made of ivory. He'd forgotten how strong Edgeworth's hands were. A press of the correct chords, and the prosecutor began to play, reminding Phoenix of another time he'd watched those hands at work.

  
\---

 _"That's amazing," Phoenix murmured, and he grimaced as the prosecutor jumped an inch off the bench, turning to glare a hole in his forehead. "Sorry; didn't mean to frighten you."_

"Well, you did." Edgeworth frowned, glaring at him before looking quickly around them. "How did you get in here, anyway?"

Wright shook a small baggie and grinned; he could still hear the sounds of teeth crunching in the other room. "You'd be surprised what an open set of garden doors and a bag of doggie treats can get a man. Besides, Pess seems to know how I smell; he wasn't alarmed."

"Hmph. I thought Corgis were supposed to be smart." Edgeworth turned back to face the piano once more, shoulders shifting as though trying to shrug off the feeling of surprise.

"C'mon, Miles, don't be like that. I even brought presents." He held up a thickly-stuffed manilla folder. "I'm kinda screwed on this one; looking at this, even I don't believe she's innocent. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do now, but if she really did it, I can't just get her out of the dock."

One elegant eyebrow arched in surprise. "You do know that this is quite illegal, don't you? Your first duty is to protect the client's interests."

"No, my first duty is to the truth _, whatever it may be."_

"We could lose our licenses."

"Nah." Phoenix walked forward into the room and set the folder down on a table. "Gumshoe won't check it for prints. Besides, I'm not here to give you that, anyway. Dunno where you got it from."

Edgeworth let out another harrumph of derision. "Then, what are _you here for?"_

"To learn the piano. Shove over." He settled himself in despite Edgeworth's muttered growl of protest. "What was that you were playing just now?" He ran a finger over one of the keys, not pressing in to strike a note, but just to feel the surface under his skin. "There are dents... and the--this is real ivory. How old is this thing?"

"Two hundred years at least," came the annoyed sigh. "Von Karma wasn't one to have much but antiques. I was playing 'Forward into the Past.' It's a simple suite."

"Mozart?"

"Mollin, actually. A modern composer. He's worked mostly on incidental music, but he's quite good." Edgeworth reached up to brush his silver fringes back, though they just settled back down into place again. "Need a haircut," he grumped.

"You look fine." To him, Edgeworth always looked fine. More than fine. He'd often wanted to reach up and pull that silly cravat away, give him room to suck and nibble on that neck. "Show me again what you were playing."

Blue met grey a moment before they both looked down at the keys, and Miles started the piece over. It put Phoenix in mind of the Moonlight Sonata, but it was definitely not the same. After a bit, the melody became secondary, and he narrowed his focus to his friend's hands as they slid effortlessly along. Notes and chords flowed from the motions, and it took him several heartbeats to realise when the piece had come to an end. He jerked his head up, mouth opening to ask for more, but was cut off by a rapid series of barks from the main hall.

\--

  
Phoenix sighed, flaring his nostrils as he blew out a hot breath. Any more of this, and he was going to blow his cover. It had taken him awhile to train himself to look like a slacker. His beanie still contained a lawyer's brains, but knowing how not to use them was something that he had worked long to accomplish. He slapped his hand against the concrete wall behind him, using it to push himself off. He headed for the back room, clapping a hand briefly to the Gucci-swathed shoulder.

"Something wrong?" The icy cool voice plucked at his heartstrings; he only belatedly noticed the note of confusion in it.

"Nah. Got work to do. Don't get my bread from takin' after my old man." He knew that wasn't technically the truth; Gregory had been a defending counsel, but it was close enough to pass as a curious, offhand remark. "You're good enough at this, you can cover for me." _Dammit, Miles, just go away. My life's screwed up enough without you back in it, making me want you all over again._

"You're the one who plays poker here, as well as plinks erratically on the piano?"

Phoenix stopped, turning his head to look over his shoulder. He gave a shrug, fixing his eyes on the impeccably pressed trousers and Italian shoes. "Yeah. Want a game or something? Should warn you that I've never been beat."

"Yes, well, a perfect record isn't everything," the prosecutor grumbled. "I should know."

Phoenix closed his eyes and smiled, turning away. He could clearly hear the tone of a lesson hard-learned, but was surprised at the lack of bitterness in it. "Come on, then. Take me if you can." He led Edgeworth inside, then knocked on the wall to summon the guard on the other side of the window. "Kevin, how 'bout you knock off for the game, yeah? Grab some lunch or something; have a smoke. This one doesn't need proof; if he lies, he lies. He won't, though." A few more words of encouragement, and the man was gone, shaking his head and muttering as he shut the door behind him.

"Still bringing people into your perspective I see. And for Christ's sake, _look_ at me when I talk to you." Phoenix felt a strong hand on his shoulder, pulling, then the hardness of concrete against his back. Shocked azure stared up at steel, and he was surprised when his head met the cushion of a palm instead of the crack of cement.

The affected roughness of his voice dropped away in the shock. "Edgeworth--"

"Do you think I wouldn't see you? That I wouldn't _know_ you when I did? For the love of God, Wright, if nothing else, I remember your ham-handed attempts at playing Mollin." The jerk of his cap being pulled off tugged Phoenix's head to the side, and then all he knew was those strong fingers in his hair, and the hot taste of Edgeworth on his lips.

The kiss took its own course; Phoenix wasn't altogether sure if either of them really had control of it; It seemed to grow in the smoky air, the cloying, metallic tang of cobwebs and dust motes feeding it until they were pressed up close together, tongues battling like the words they had once wielded against each other in court. Phoenix felt the groan more than heard it, the rumble in Miles's chest transferring as it held close to his. One of the prosecutor's arms locked tight about the piano-player's waist as the other supported him on the wall behind, and Phoenix curled his fingers into the magenta silk at Edgeworth's shoulders. All he knew at that moment was that Miles was hot and real under his hands, and sweet heaven, he was moving, taking friction against Phoenix's thigh just like Phoenix was against his.

They broke apart, panting, and the gleam of glass at Edgeworth's forehead drew Wright's eyes up before they focused again on the pewter twinkles glinting in the low light. "I asked around when I came back, you know. Found out they'd kicked you out, then cleared you." His manner was intense, and the former defence counsel could only blink and listen when confronted with it so close. "Couldn't find you. It was as if you'd disappeared--except for that one case. I couldn't get anyone to talk to me about it; I had to practically move a mountain just to get someone to tell me that the piano and poker player here might know something about where you were." He shook his head. "Never dreamed I'd find you like this." Edgeworth wrinkled his nose as he looked down, indicating his distaste for the other man's current state. "Where the hell do you do your shopping, the thrift store? I didn't think anything could be worse than that cheap blue suit you always used to wear. And, when was the last time you shaved?"

"Objection," Phoenix laughed, a bit breathless. "You're badgering the witness."

Edgeworth pressed closer and growled. "Shut up and let's go home, where there are no witnesses."

Blue eyes slipped closed, and a shiver slid its way down Phoenix's spine at the low, rumbling purr. "Yeah, that'll be good. Maya's watching Trucy again tonight, so we don't have to worry."

"Who's Trucy?"

"My daughter." He laughed at the gobsmacked, shocked expression that took over the taller man's face, and tightened his hold on Miles's shoulders to keep him still. "Adopted, adopted; calm down. There's still plenty of room for you and me."


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long to get back to familiar ground; Phoenix had had a word with his employer, and then instructed Miles to take them back to the office. He'd smirked at the confused look on Miles's face--he couldn't help but be amused by the complete reversal of their previous positions. Oh, Edgeworth was as composed as he could be with utter hunger showing in every lineament, but Wright was the one now with the answers and the aces.

"Pull around back; there's room for a few cars below," he instructed. Edgeworth had insisted he leave off his hat, and his spikes drooped behind him without their buttress of gel.

"You don't _live_ at the office, do you?" The incredulity in the man's voice made Phoenix laugh again, leaning back in the seat.

"You think I'd keep a kid in a tiny little one-bedroom apartment? You think Child Services would let me? You have no clue how many people I had to blow to get her adopted; a single father without a steady job is not the best candidate for it."

"You bl-- I don't... Where do--"

"Stop badgering the witness, Counsellor."

"Stop calling yourself that." Edgeworth's voice was a low snarl as he cut his eyes over at his passenger briefly. He pulled into one of the stalls and killed the engine, sitting back in his seat. "You are the defending counsel."

"Like hell. I am a businessman who works additional jobs to boost his income and take care of his daughter." Phoenix unbuckled his seat belt and turned to open the door; he stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not doing it in the car, Edgeworth."

"I'm sure as hell not doing it up on that tiny excuse for an office couch," Miles shot back. "Why are we here?"

"You wanted to go home, ja?" Phoenix didn't even notice the word that had crept into his vocabulary; Trucy had picked it up from Klavier, and it had simply permeated them all. "Well, this is it. It's not the Radisson, and it's not your sterile giant house, but it's home. We've made it that way."

Edgeworth blinked, eyebrows drawing up in confusion. "When did you learn German?"

"Hm? Oh, that. Trucy got it from the new prosecutor." They exited, and Phoenix led them to the service elevator, hitting the controls for the top floor. "There are apartments up here," he explained. "Originally intended as storage space, but converted long before we got here. I clean the building at night, and we get to live here. Still have to pay rent on the office, though."

"And, Child Services didn't have a fit about it?"

Phoenix smiled, twirling his hat around on his finger as he watched the lights go up. "Trucy picked up a stray cat, and Puss in Boots was able to convince DHS that things were okay. He's still a bit grumpy if you pet him wrong, but the girls have him wrapped around their fingers."

Edgeworth looked up at the indicator lights, frowning. "How many floors are there in this place?"

"Only as many as there needs to be," Wright replied. He cut his eyes over toward the other man. "Impatient? Your own fault, you know. You could have come back at any damn time."

"Yes, I'm impatient," Edgeworth snapped. "I haven't been able to go a single day without thinking about you, and it's driving me absolutely mad. Sometimes, I'll get through a day, then you'll pop up in the back of my mind. It's getting to the point where I hear your voice badgering me as I'm setting up my classes. Each example I make, I hear you arguing, finding loopholes. You are infuriating."

Phoenix snorted. "So, you think the best way to cure you of your obsession is to come back, shove me into a corner, and shag me senseless?" A shake of his head, and the dark-haired man laughed mirthlessly. "I don't work like that, Edgeworth." The elevator doors dinged, and Phoenix stepped out, leading them down the hallway. "If I'm under your skin, you're not going to shut me up by getting off with me."

"Become crude in your old age, haven't you, Wright?"

"You're evading the issue."

"We're still heading toward your apartment."

Phoenix cast a sharp, hard look back at the other man as he unlocked the door. "I missed you, you idiot! For heaven's sake, we cross paths less often than a caduceus, and then you keep leaving." He stepped inside, reaching over to flick on the lights. "Shoes off," he instructed. "This carpet's still new; I'm trying to keep it as clean as possible."

"Can't be easy with a young girl running around."

"We both forget occasionally, but that's what Oxy-Clean is for." Looking around, Phoenix nodded to himself. Maya usually insisted that Trucy pick up before they left for a night out, and he was glad to see that tonight was no different. "Want a drink? About all I can offer is root beer or a screwdriver."

"You keep alcohol in the house?" Edgeworth shut the door and stepped over to the couch, eyes sweeping the room. "This place seems bigger than I would have expected. You have a lot of doors..."

"The vodka, I use for cleaning the grout. Makes a world of difference. As for the apartment... yeah. I was surprised, too, but I can't really complain. Three bedrooms--one for me, one for Trucy, and one for Maya and Pearls when they stay over, kitchen, and two bathrooms, with this main room as the hub. We're pretty lucky."

"You're offering a drink made with liquid you use to clean the bathroom?"

Nose wrinkled in disgust, Phoenix looked up over the counter seats into the living room. "I don't use it right from the bottle, geez. That'd be gross. I take it, though, that you'd rather have the screwdriver."

"I _prefer_ single-malt scotch, but the screwdriver will just have to do." Edgeworth sighed, settling onto the sofa as he pulled off his glasses. Phoenix knew his furniture was nothing like the large, overstuffed, leather ones that the other man usually purchased and subsequently never used, but what he had was very comfortable.

"Yeah, it'll have to. I don't have that kind of money." He shrugged, reaching into the freezer to pull out an old, aluminium ice tray. A pull of the handle, and he saw Miles jump out of the corner of his eye as the ice cracked and crushed inside. "No gunshots, counsellor, not up here. Door's locked, anyway." He finished the drinks, then went back into the living room. "Here you go." He moved his hat from the sofa to the loveseat, getting it out of the way before he sat down directly next to the other man.

Miles sniffed it, then gave a shrug and began to sip. He rocked a little when he felt Phoenix lean some of his weight on him, and applied pressure back... He wasn't about to be pushed like a cornered rat.

"I'm..." Phoenix hesitated, then took a drink from his own glass. "I'm glad you came back. Should I expect to see you next in three and a half years?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, first it was fourteen years... now seven... half that again will be three and a half. Then a year and nine months, then a little less than a year... Eventually, I'll only go a week or so without hearing from you."

They pondered that statement in a long silence that grew more comfortable by the sip. Phoenix could feel frissons of movement where they touched; he could tell that his... friend? rival? potential bed partner? wanted to move, to act, and was keeping himself still as he considered his course of action. He sat up straighter and turned a bit, drawing his drink closer to him. "Look, Miles--"

He didn't get a chance to speak after that; Edgeworth set his glass down and turned, catching Wright's face in both hands. Phoenix felt himself leaned backward onto the sofa, belatedly remembering to set his glass down onto the floor. He could taste the orange juice on the other man's tongue as it swiped between his lips, and closed his eyes as Miles shifted to pace his weight more securely. It didn't last long, however, and they both drew a deep breath in as the cold began to seep through their clothes.

"Goddammit!" Edgeworth pulled back quickly, batting at the ice that clung to his vest. "Damn, this is silk!"

Phoenix couldn't help laughing despite the cold liquid soaking into his hoodie and on in. His was easy enough to take care of; he curled up the hem and pulled both the hoodie and the tee under it over his head, balling it up to keep the mush contained. "Come on, Miles; let's get that under some cold water before it stains."

"You can't do that; it has to get to the cleaners!"

Phoenix shook his head and stood, tucking his upper garments under one tanned arm. Working outdoors on occasion hadn't bronzed him, but if had given him a healthy glow. "Come on, really; you're getting it on the carpet. He took his friend's hand, sticky as it was with the drink, and led him toward the bathroom. "Maya always gets ketchup on her kimono; I've gotten used to rinsing it out by now." It didn't take long to get Miles divested of his waistcoat and shirt, leaving him in a frilled, mailcoach cravat and trousers. He wanted to reach over, tuck the ends into the folds, and gently tug it off, but the silk of Edgeworth's shirt and vest was delicate and needed to be cared for properly.

"Would you mind getting the vinegar out of the cupboard, please?" Phoenix asked over his shoulder. "It's the one right behind me. We have to counteract the alcohol before it leaves a permanent mark."

"You _sound_ like you know what you're doing," Edgeworth harrumphed. Nonetheless, Phoenix could hear him rummaging around in the cupboard for the bottle. "Do you want the Ivory, too?"

"Yeah, please." He accepted the bottles, working to rinse the mess from the material before treating it and washing it. "Get a couple towels, would ya? I need to roll these up so I don't wring 'em." A few moments produced the requisite items, and the former attorney carefully pressed the water out of the fancy garments. "My iron's busted, but these are light enough that I should be able to hang them up to dry."

"I admit, I'm impressed." He looked up, catching sight of Edgeworth's reflection in the mirror. He had to swallow; the man looked delicious standing there shirtless. His belt was unbuckled and his trousers hung open at the front, but Phoenix's gaze was drawn upward by the motions of the other man undoing his cravat. "You only ever wore those cheap, blue suits..."

"Just because I can't afford fancy clothes doesn't mean I don't know how to take care of them." Wright huffed a breath of annoyance, then turned to grab a couple hangers off the rack on the back of the door. He kept the seams straight on the plastic, and placed them back on the rack, with plenty of room to dry. "There, good as new. Well, almost." He gasped as he felt the prosecutor fit himself right up behind him, hands sliding over either side of his hips.

"Ah, God, Wright, you look good like that..."

"You get turned on by watching someone wash your clothes?" He chuckled, but leaned back willingly, feeling a zing as Edgeworth's bare chest met his back. "Remind me to send a warning letter to your cleaners."

"Always with the wisecracks." A metallic clink, followed by a lessening of pressure signalled the unbuckling of Phoenix's belt, and for the moment, he was content to stand there, rocking himself between the hardness he felt at his backside and the hand that petted his stiff flesh. "Where did you learn those?"

"Anywhere I could. I watched. Mm, I listened. I kept my head down and my mouth shut until I could match it." He leaned his head back on Edgeworth's shoulder, smirking over at him. "You think maybe you want to get out of the trousers before you make a mess of _them_ , too?"

"Impatient?" Phoenix chuckled as he heard his own words reflected back at him. "I had actually meant that you look good without that shapeless mass of cotton you have the audacity to call a shirt." Working his tail off had toned him again, and he smiled.

"Oh, that. People see that, the sandals, the hat, they don't even think about looking for an attorney. They see a bum, below their notice. You'd be surprised what sort of access this invisibility can get me."

"Wright?"

"Yes?"

"You talk too much. Strip off and get in the shower." Phoenix snickered even as he complied, tossing his clothes in the hamper even as Miles folded his trousers up and draped them over another hanger with the rest of his clothes.

"The shower? You really want this to happen in my shower?" A sardonic chuckle escaped him, and he stretched, lifting up onto his toes. "Seems like a pretty odd spot for our one shot at it."

"That all depends on your stamina, really." Phoenix shot him a look of challenge, which just made Edgeworth grin ferally. "There's your fire. I wondered where it had gone. But, this can happen in the shower, while we get this stickiness off our skin, or it can happen in the bed--"

"Where we'll just get sticky again." A shake of the head, and he swivelled to turn on the taps, getting a nice, warm flow before flicking on the shower. "Then again--who says it can't happen in both?" He laughed and stepped under the spray, waiting for the other man to clear the sock gap and join him.

He barely had time to soap up his hair before Miles had him pinned to the wall, tasting his mouth once again. With the water lubricating them, they thrust against each other, enjoying the friction. His head felt light on his shoulders as strong fingers played with the suds in his hair, and he let his hands work their way down to massage the strong muscles of Edgeworth's backside. He was surprised to hear the noise of want and feel the man push back against his hands; he'd expected the other man would want to stake some sort of primal claim on him in an attempt to work out the boiling of his blood. Regardless, he took the opportunity to do what he'd always wanted, and turned his mouth to task on that long, strong neck.

Edgeworth shuddered against him, quivering as he flicked his tongue and grazed his teeth over the soft flesh. He was disappointed when Miles pulled away, but that disappointment faded as the man reached up to take his jaw in hand. "Now, Wright. I'll get mine in bed."

Emboldened by the stark need in those steely eyes, Phoenix reached for the rack near the showerhead, scrabbling for the soap. "Never planned on anything like this," he panted, spitting water out of his mouth. "It's Dial now, and lotion later."

"I'm going to assume you're clean; you never were the type to fuck around."

The harsh, guttural pronunciation of the word sent a shiver down Phoenix's spine, and he rubbed at the bar of soap, lathering his fingers. "You, too, then?"

"I'm just as pathetic as you are. Hurry _up._ "

He nibbled on Edgeworth's ear as he worked his fingers to prepare the man, relishing each shudder he felt pass through the other man's body. "You're going to have to turn around..."

"No." Wet strands of silvery-grey slapped against Edgeworth's face as he shook his head. "You are going to look me in the eyes when we do this, Wright."

Phoenix gritted his teeth; water and soap made for a slippery surface, even with the brightly-coloured non-slip rubber decals Trucy had picked out to line the bathtub. "I don't have the traction to do that. Trust me, even with you facing that wall, it's all you. It's _always_ you, Miles, even when I'm dreaming. I close my eyes, and you're all I can see."

The narrow shower was a bit awkward to navigate from where they were tangled up together, but they managed to slide around so Edgeworth faced the far wall with Phoenix behind him. He felt Miles gasp as he guided himself in, moving in slow increments until he was seated completely inside his friend. He reached down to caress the other man's shaft, blunter but thicker than his own. Miles felt impossibly tight; either he hadn't been joking about his dry spell, or had confined himself to women. "You okay?"

The prosecutor nodded, but Phoenix could tell that he was holding his breath. "Come on, Miles. Air is good for you. I don't want you to pass out."

"D-don't... don't move yet." He let out a great gust, taking it back almost immediately. Phoenix rested one hand against his hip, holding him still, and another along his side to support him.

"Keep at it, come on. You'll adjust. I won't move until you say; it's okay." He broke his word only barely, leaning forward enough to kiss and nibble at the Edgeworth's shoulders. He kept on until he felt the man's ribs moving under him, first fast and hard, then slowing as his lungs remembered how to work on their own. The vise-grip about his shaft lessened as Miles relaxed, and he stroked gently over the man's skin. "Better?"

"Y.. yes." Another few breaths, and Phoenix rested his forehead at the base of the man's neck. "Move."

Slowly to begin with, Phoenix paid close attention to the responses he received. He sped up or slowed down depending on Miles's reaction, and it didn't take long for them to both crave more. Their coupling lacked finesse; they needed to get through the first of it, burn the roughness of hunger out of their systems before they could enjoy it. Neither of them lasted very long; Phoenix went first, but took Miles with him soon after. They barely heard each other over the sound of the water running; their lungs burned from the effort of holding back the noises of completion they longed to let out.

Spent and sated for the moment, they rested together until they got their breath back. A shift of his hips unseated him from Miles's body, and he felt the other man turn in his arms. He wasted no time in kissing him, forming the connection that he knew Edgeworth had wanted from the beginning. "Oh, fuzzbuckets; I'm spoiled now. I don't know if I can wait three and a half years to do that again."

"'Fuzzbuckets?'"

"I have a daughter, Miles. The word is 'fuzzbuckets.'" He was surprised to feel the counsellor laugh under him, and raised his head to gaze warmly at him. "What's so funny?"

"I was pondering how you were going to explain this to her, actually. Are you going to say I 'fuzzbucketed you rotten?'"

"Miles?"

"Yes?"

"You talk too much. Let's clean up and get to bed."


	3. Chapter 3

Maya let him plant a light kiss on her cheek, and ruffled his hair before he left; though she loved Larry Butz thoroughly, she did have to set an example for the girls.

"I'll call you!" He mimicked a phone with his thumb and little finger, and waved as he headed back toward the elevator.

"Bye, Uncle Larry!" Trucy called, waving back. "Thanks for taking us to the park!"

"Yes, thank you! It was so fun!" Pearl clapped her hands in joy; she was visibly exhausted, but still riding the happiness from the trip.

"Come on, girls; time for bed." She waved as the doors closed on him, and then unlocked the door to usher them inside. She stopped, though, looking around. Something felt different. There was a different scent in the air, and something felt out of place.

"What did you like best, Trucy?" Pearl asked yet again.

"I liked the Ferris Wheel best, I think, even though Daddy hates them. But, with Aunt Maya, we could go as many times as we wanted." Each time Pearl had asked, Trucy had picked a different area of the park, from the rocker boat to the bungee bounce to the bumper cars, and back again. "We got up so high, and it was like you could see over the whole ocean!"

"Me, too!"

"Aunt Maya, I'm going to go say hi to Daddy before bed, 'kay?"

"No, wait--" Maya put a finger to her lips as he eyes alighted on the open bathroom door. She stepped over, reaching out to run the material through her fingers. Her eyes grew wide as realisation dawned. "Oh my goodness... Oh, dear. He's... Oh!"

"What's wrong?" Maya looked down into Trucy's blue eyes, now awash with worry.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetie... Come here, both of you." She knelt, looking from blue to brown to back again. "Stay right here for me, and don't make a sound; if I'm right, I'll have something magic to show you both in a minute."

"Magic?" Trucy perked instantly; magic was in her blood, and she sought it out every moment she could.

Maya nodded. "Remember, stay quiet!" She tiptoed over to Phoenix's room and very carefully opened the door. Sprawled together under the blanket, sleeping peacefully, were Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth, tangled hopelessly in what appeared to be a very comfortable mess of limbs. She didn't fight the goofy smile that took her face, and motioned to the girls to join her.

"Who's that in there with Daddy? He had a sleepover, and we weren't invited? That sucks." Maya was glad the girl'd kept her voice to a hissing whisper; neither of the men seemed to have noticed in the least.

"Oh, I know him! That's Mister Edgeworth!" Pearl bounced a little on the balls of her feet as she pointed. "I remember him yelling at Mister Nick in the courtroom."

"Edgeworth?" The younger Wright tested the name softly. "Sounds stuck-up."

Maya bit back a snicker and shooed them out of the doorway as she closed the door with a soft click. "He can be stuck up at times, Trucy. But, he's a good guy... and, well, if that sort of sleepover's any indication, you may be calling him 'Papa' eventually... and that would be the best kind of magic there is."


End file.
